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Chapter 288 - Jihoon’s Only Friend

In the real world, December is the month where every respectable company sits down, summons its accounting team from the depths of despair, and forces them to summarize the year-end financial reports.

It's the sacred, painful ritual where people calculate profitability, analyze unnecessary spending, and pretend to act surprised at the numbers they already knew were coming.

So for today's chapter, we're doing the same thing — except instead of a corporation with cubicles and a coffee machine that never works, we're evaluating Jihoon, a one-man economy disguised as a filmmaker.

Only difference: we're not checking one year.

We're checking three years of his life, plus his growing empire of assets in Korea.

And honestly? The boy's numbers are scary.

Aside from the fame, the spotlight, the red carpets, the film critics writing essays about his "cinematic soul," Jihoon — the man sitting dead center in all this chaos — has been quietly getting very, very rich.

His personal net worth has been inflating like a balloon at a kid's birthday party.

Pretty to look at, but dangerous if popped.

So let's start with the most grounded part of his financial expansion: the money he earned from filmmaking.

From 2006 until now, Jihoon has produced five completed films, with one more — Yoon Jongbin's Nameless Gangster — currently in production.

The five films already released between 2006 and 2007 generated a combined net profit of 193.6 million.

Not bad for a guy who arrived in this timeline with nothing but memories of a past life and a terrifying work ethic.

And soon, with Jongbin's new film about to hit theaters, that will make six Korean films under Jihoon's belt.

But then there's Jihoon's LA branch — the legendary JH Pictures of Hollywood.

This studio hasn't even existed for a full year yet. Less than five months to be exact.

Still in baby shoes.

And despite being young enough to still be teething, it has already produced four films and generated about 223.7 million in profit.

Let's pause here to acknowledge the absurdity.

Korea: Two years of hard work → 193.6 million

LA: Less than a year → 223.7 million

The numbers don't lie.

Jihoon's move to LA was basically like stepping into a field of gold bars with a giant vacuum.

The environment, the ecosystem, the global audience — everything made it clear that LA wasn't just a step up.

It was a different playing field entirely, one where the grass is greener because it's made of money.

So, adding those two together, Jihoon's film work alone has earned him 417.3 million.

And most people would use even a fraction of that to buy a yacht, or maybe a private island, or at the very least a ridiculously overpriced car.

Jihoon did none of that, he is still the stingy Jihoon you guys know.

No pleasure, no indulgence, not even a splurge meal unless you count convenience-store ramen.

Every cent, every dollar, every hard-earned chunk of profit was poured straight into the stock market — not for fun, not for gambling, but for one reason: September 2008, the coming financial crisis he knows too well from his previous life.

He's not playing chess.

He's playing time-traveling 4D finance.

But films aren't the only source of Jihoon's growing wealth.

His investments in other industries have also begun to bear fruit — or at least show the early signs of sprouting.

Let's start with the most dramatic one: property.

Jihoon bought a 2.4-acre piece of land back in 2006.

Sounds huge, right?

Like "build three mansions and a swimming pool for each pet" huge.

But when you look at the full redevelopment zone of Mapo-gu — 5,890 acres — his slice of land is only 0.042% of the entire district.

Reality check: he owns a crumb of the cake.

But oh, what a valuable crumb.

The price he paid was laughably cheap because in 2006, Mapo-gu was basically known for waste disposal.

Not glamorous. Not desirable. Definitely not somewhere you bring a date.

But Jihoon knew the future.

He knew Mapo-gu wouldn't stay a trashy corner of Seoul.

Korean authorities were planning a huge redevelopment starting 2008 — transforming it into a vibrant hub to relieve city traffic, improve national economic flow, and reposition the heart of Seoul's commercial and entertainment industries.

TV stations like KBS, MBC, and SBS were already planning branches there.

It was destined to become the entertainment hive of the nation.

So Jihoon bought early.

Good decision?

More like a bank robbery, legally done.

Today, after two years of construction and rezoning into a commercial–residential zone, his land is worth around 68 million.

And because he partnered with his aunt Boojin to develop hotels, residences, and commercial buildings, the value is only going to keep rising.

They basically planted a skyscraper seed and are waiting for it to grow.

And that's not all.

His subsidiaries under JH Corp — JH Digital Art and Yogiyo — have also matured. Two years ago, they were just infants.

Now they're ready to launch.

True, they haven't generated profit yet. In fact, they're still eating Jihoon's money like starving teenagers. But it's not their fault — the world simply wasn't ready.

Both companies depend heavily on smartphones and strong internet usage. And the first real smartphone — the iPhone 3G — will only launch this coming July.

Once it does, it'll change human behavior forever. Jihoon knows this, so he keeps funding them tirelessly. He's not nurturing companies. He's preparing weapons for the future.

So far, Jihoon has 417.3 million in liquidity and 68 million in land assets.

Now, taking advantage of Mapo-gu's insane popularity, Jihoon instructed Jaehyun back in Korea to take out a loan using the land as collateral.

The bank appraised it as a medium-risk asset and issued a 58 million loan.

Lucky?

Maybe.

But more realistically, banks are sharks who can smell profit from a mile away.

Mapo-gu is the hottest investment spot in Seoul right now.

The government redevelopment guarantees increasing value.

Jihoon's mixed-development project of shopping center + residences + commercial space was a guarantees revenue.

Even if Jihoon failed to repay, the bank could seize the project and earn even more.

That's why the approval was fast — and because Boojin was a co-developer, backing the loan.

Why did Jihoon involve Boojin?

Because he told her his master plan: Buy the dip when the 2008 financial crisis hits.

At first she didn't believe him. Who would?

A nineteen-something nephew claiming to foresee a global crash sounds like a guy who reads too much conspiracy forums.

But Jihoon explained using examples like the ongoing U.S. mortgage crisis, and slowly, she began to understand the potential.

Even so, she didn't have much capital.

She only owned 1.5% of Hotel Shilla and zero shares in Samseong Corporation.

In some twisted reality, she was poorer than Jihoon.

Still, with her approval, Jihoon secured the loan.

And so, the numbers now stand:

417.3M cash + 58M loan = 475.3M total liquidity ready for crisis mode.

But here's where it gets wild.

His banker told him he is eligible for 5-to-1 leverage, if he uses HCU and JH Pictures LA as collateral.

Meaning Jihoon could control 2.38 billion dollars for trading during the financial crisis.

Of course, leverage is a double-edged sword.

If he messes up, even slightly, the bank will pull the plug instantly, seize all collateral, and Jihoon will become another Wall Street tragedy, climbing rooftops for non-financial reasons.

But he's willing to take that risk. He has to.

Because in his previous life, he lived through this crisis and knew exactly how much opportunity it held.

One chance.

One window.

One moment to make his bank account into 10 digit number.

This is why he has been working nonstop since his reincarnation.

Why he pushed himself like a lunatic. Why he poured everything into films, land, companies, and investments.

Because when the feast arrives, he plans to sit at the table with the sharks — not watch from the shore.

And no, he isn't the only one who knows the crisis is coming. In the real world, the "people at the upper table" know first. Some may even have a hand in causing it.

But Jihoon isn't a saint. He's not a whistleblower. He's a man trying to secure his own future.

Call him selfish.

Call him greedy.

Call him a self-centered prick just like he was in his previous life.

But that's the truth: Spots don't change. They deepen.

And Jihoon?

He's committed to making friends with Benjamin Franklin, one hundred dollars at a time.

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